All Children Do Grow Up
by Mileharo Kerran
Summary: Just a corny ending to the 2003 movie, heheh.


_Just a repost. A slightly more polished version. Works best when you read this to yourself in that story-telling voice from the movie, even if it's just inside your head, hahah. Enjoy. :)_****

**All Children Do Grow Up**

Days passed... and how long did each day seem to Wendy. For though she left their window open for him every night, and though she spent many moments each night searching the heavens for a certain flying boy's shadow, never once did she get a glimpse of it. Even Tinker Bell's light would have been welcome, for then Wendy need not have felt that she just imagined it all.

The Lost Boys, who are lost no more, have been given new names by Mr. Darling himself, for it wouldn't have done to have them addressed as Curly or Tootles in polite company. But when the children are all together at home, they would revert to calling each other by the old nicknames, and they sometimes even tease Wendy and call her Red-Handed Jill. The Darling household had never been a happier place; even Mr. Darling seemed to forget all the formality being a banker entailed, and when he is home he would give the boys rides on his back, to the great enjoyment of everybody.

Aunt Millicent came to visit more often, as her house was now only just a short distance from the Darlings'. Nobody could miss the happy twinkle in her eye as her gaze chances upon her son Slightly. Sometimes when nobody is looking, the two would stare for endless moments at each other and share a secret smile. It was as if she had found the thing that had been missing all her life when she found her new son. The two suited each other very well, for Slightly was a very intelligent boy, and his quiet ways and formal manner of speaking pleased her very etiquette-bound heart to no end.

Wendy was moved to another room, so much smaller than the nursery, for the nursery was now filled to capacity by the seven boys, that even the toys seemed to want to complain about the crowding. The air there was now almost entirely filled with the boys' shouts and shrieks and rough play, and only when Wendy came to tell her stories did it seem to settle down into an excited silence.

Wendy kept her promise, and each night a crowd of eager, well- scrubbed faces would gather around a chair reserved especially for her, where she would be perched as a queen -- for that is how they treated their Mother Wendy; but of course, the boys never call her Mother now, for they have found a real mother in Mrs. Darling – so each night the boys of the Darling household would sit in rapt silence as they listened to her stories. Sometimes one of them would interrupt and add his own part, or ask a question, only to be elbowed in the ribs and shushed by his neighbor.

Almost invariably the tales would be about Peter Pan, and even if she sometimes ended up telling the same story after a few nights – because even a wonderful storyteller such as Wendy would run out of stories to tell – the boys never minded; there was something in the way she tells them that makes all the words fresh and new and thrilling to each of their ears and little hearts.

But as time went by it seemed that the boys have begun to forget about their time in Never Land. There was the matter of schooling to be concerned with, and a little boy's head could only hold so much that practical arithmetic and grammar would come to take up more space than memories of magic forests and cotton-candy clouds and fairies and pirates. All these thoughts now belonged only to the realm of their dreams and fantasies, unreal but very potent still. Wendy's stories were only stories now, and the boys would listen to her and shout with glee as they played and pretended, until the stories and the playing and the pretending became only just that to them.

Only Wendy seemed to remember it all as real, but it seemed futile to remind them all. After all, she thought to herself, what would be the use of remembering their time in Never Land as real? For sadly, growing up would be inevitable, and grow up they did in so short a time, so very slowly nobody seemed to notice.

-------

And so time went by, and the winter melted into spring, and spring into summer... into fall... until once again the snow was silently falling outside her window. Even so she kept it open, and gazed through it into the moon, and remembered another time when the moon was full and huge against the blue-black sky. She could still feel the rough hands against her own, feel her feet floating in the air, feel her heart soaring as she danced the dance of the Fairy King and Queen.

Young innocent love is surely the sweetest and most fragrant flower that ever bloomed, and Time only served to nurture it more fully in Wendy's heart. Yes, it was sweet and beautiful, but it also had thorns which cut the insides of her heart as memories ceased to be enough. Every night before she went to sleep the last thing her eyes saw was a slip of string tied around a nicked acorn and hanging through one post of her bedstead. It was the very same acorn that saved her once from Tootles' arrow. Because of this her dreams were filled with the one that gave it to her, and she would once again hear his laughter and the voice saying "Oh, the cleverness of me!"

This night was just like that, and she woke up with her heart beating so fast, because the words ringed so loudly in her dreams she thought she actually heard them. She sprang from the bed, almost falling face-first when the covers tangled with her feet, and rushed to the window where she leaned out as far as she could, her eyes frantically searching the heavens and seeing... nothing but the stars winking back at her. A tear formed in the corner of one eye, until it fell and slowly travelled a wet path down her cheek. She felt the cold winter air freezing her face and her heart, and she crooked her elbow over the sill, burying her face in it.

_Peter, oh Peter... why couldn't you have loved me enough to come back with us and grow up?_

So busy was she with her weeping, that she did not see a shadow fall across herself through the window.

-------

He had made up his mind that he would not come back there anymore, for there was no room in Never Land for feelings, especially not inside his own little heart, which only had enough space for fun and adventure. Or so he insisted. But Hook was no more, and being the Captain of the Jolly Roger was no fun at all without a crew except for one little fairy. He never thought that a person could be lonely in Never Land, but that was exactly what he was. He didn't notice that Never Land's skies had turned a dull grey and that the oceans had started once again to become frozen. Even Tink's light seemed to dim a little as she watched him mope around everyday staring off into nothing, but he didn't notice that either.

For a person who was easily distracted, it was almost funny how his thoughts these days were focused on one thing. Or rather, one person.

Was it all a dream? For although his memory never served him well before, it wouldn't be possible that he just conjured up out of nothing all those images of a certain young lady in his mind, would it? How can one simply dream up those blue eyes as soft as gentle sea waves? Or that waterfall of curls the brown-gold color of honey, framed about an angel's face? And those hands... oh, he thought he knew magic before, but her palms against his as they danced in the moonlight simply lifted his heart into the skies, the feeling both thrilling and frightening.

How scared he was then of that new thing in his heart, that thing which threatened all he knew before as familiar and right. He tried to bring himself relief by pushing her away, but found out that _that thing_ in his heart had somehow rooted itself permanently, that it had become impossible to dislodge both the feeling and Wendy without feeling the worst pain.

Oh, how he struggled, but he knew he had to keep it from everybody else, for he was _the Boy_, wasn't he? And Never Land was the only bride he wanted. Or was it?

And so he pretended that everything was the same as before. Never Land presented its most thrilling adventures to him as before, but somehow there came no satisfaction out of finding new treasures in the jungle, or of taunting the displaced pirates, or of exchanging mysteries with the mermaids. Nothing gave him real happiness as before, and slowly, so very slowly, his flying became more and more of an effort, though he was not entirely conscious of it.

But someone else was, and at first Tinker Bell glowed alternately green and red with envy and anger, for she knew what the cause of this change was. Peter never noticed this, for in his eyes all the vivid colors of Never Land somehow melted away into a haze in his ponderings. And when Tinker Bell knew that she could not bring the old Peter back, she, too, turned a bit grey, as grey as the Never Land was becoming.

Now, everybody knows how the little fairy adores Peter. In this one moment, she set out to do the most unselfish thing she ever did. That very morning, she grasped Peter Pan's ear and pulled him as hard as he could into his feet. He had been sitting in the Captain's chair with the most dejected look in his face, and when Tink dragged him up, he howled in pain. Slowly and with great effort the fairy heaved and dragged him across the Jolly Roger until she came to the very edge. Still, she held on with the intent of making him fly back to London, and she told him all of this in so many words – or, rather, in her own tinkling and chiming language.

It came as a great shock to both of them when Peter fell overboard into the freezing water. He floundered in the water helplessly, now and then becoming completely submerged, and only then did they both realize that he had forgotten how to fly. Only then did they realize that Peter didn't know how to swim, as he never had any need to before. Only then did they both realize the extent of his unhappiness, and it was almost his undoing. Almost, if Tink didn't have the sense enough to fly rapidly over him in the water and shake her fairy dust all over him. So frantically did she fly about that the great amount of fairy dust that got stuck on him made him shoot straight out of the water and into the air.

For a few moments they just hovered over the water, and absorbed what had happened – and what had almost happened – and all the implications of Peter having lost the ability to fly. Peter now understood what he must do, and of course it was exactly what Tink knew he must. Tink gave him one last fairy kiss on his cheek, and without any more words the boy flew up past the grey clouds, past the endlessly extending black space with all the stars and the suns shining brilliantly as they floated in it until he came at last to the cold air of a winter night in London.

-------

The boy looked at the weeping form slumped against the window sill. No, he did not dream those images in his mind, for here she was, the one that made his heart fly higher than his own body ever could. Surely it was magic how the haze was instantly washed away from his eyes when his gaze lit upon this vision, that the dull hue of the dead London winter somehow seemed as bright and beautiful as the colors of Never Land.

He could not believe that he was seeing her again after all this time. He lowered himself outside the window until his face was level to her head and whispered, "Wendy, why do you cry?"

When the girl heard these softly spoken words her shoulders suddenly stopped shaking, and slowly, oh so slowly, she looked up. When her tear-filled eyes came upon Peter's she thought for a moment that she was just dreaming, but when the face across hers broke into a very boyish grin she felt as if her own heart suddenly smiled in return.

"Peter... is it really you?" she asked breathlessly.

"No, actually my name's James Hook," was the mischievous reply, still with that endearing grin lifting his lips.

"Are you, by any chance, Mister Hook, the captain of a certain Jolly Roger?" Wendy's eyes were smiling with amusement.

"Girly, the title is Captain, not Mister," he said, perfectly imitating the fallen captain's voice and accentuations.

Wendy gasped in mock outrage, which looked perfectly ridiculous on her tear-streaked face. "You would dare to call me Girly? Why, I am Red-Handed Jill, Pirate and Master Story-Teller!"

The two broke into merry laughter, and Peter took both of Wendy's hands and dragged her outside the window, and they twirled around giddily in the air. Curiously enough, when Peter let go of her hands she still remained floating in the air. And then all laughter faded, until only smiles remained, and shining eyes.

"Wendy... I've decided to stay."

There was another moment's silence, and then...

"Oh, the cleverness of you!"

-------

The sight of two figures flying through the night sky with snow gently falling around them, one of them barely clad in leaves and toadskins and the other only in her nighty, could have driven anybody out of their minds, or in the very least their beds. But as it was, no one was to witness their flight. Peter did his best to sift through the cobwebby memories in his mind, trying to remember where he lived. It took all of his willpower to not let his face scrunch up into a crying grimace, for he was despairing that he would never remember. The two of them settled atop a peaked roof. Wendy knew just how much Peter hated to be caught crying, so she pretended not to see the tears leaking out from Peter's lids, though he tried his best at restraining them.

"Peter, can't you remember _anything_?" Wendy knew as soon as she asked that she had made a mistake, for Peter's lips trembled even more, though no words slipped past them.

"Peter," she ventured again more softly, "can you remember what the color of your room was?"

The boy started at this. "It was the brown of a tree-trunk's inside!" he cried out joyously. Wendy thought she saw the light of remembrance hovering over Peter's forehead, just in front of the little furrow between his eyebrows, but it faded away to nothing.

"No, it couldn't have been. Mother would never have allowed me to have a room inside a tree-trunk. But I remember..." And there it was again, that elusive light. "I remember there was a large tree right outside my window! Yes, I remember now, because it looked exactly – exactly! -- like our Tree in Never Land, only it is so much smaller and narrower. I would climb out of my window and down that tree when my nurse was asleep, and hide by the hollow inside its roots. Nobody else knew about it. Only I could have fit inside that hollow, and even so it was quite a squeeze." Peter's voice was becoming more and more animated as he spoke. "What fun it was to hear them scurry about in a panic trying to find me! Father would fly into a rage and scold Nursie until she cried. Hahah!"

"Oh Peter, you were so naughty!" scolded Wendy, but the outrage flew right over Peter's head and went unheeded as he took Wendy's hand.

"I was, wasn't I? And awfully clever! Come on, let's find that tree!" Wendy rolled her eyes at his arrogance, but afterwards she raised her hand to her lips to hide her amusement.

And so the two of them scoured the streets of London, and it was a curious thing how they were quite mindless of the cold snow. For many hours they flew and looked and walked, until Wendy began to tire. "Maybe we should just try again tomorrow, Peter."

There was a worried look on Peter's face, and Wendy almost feared that Peter would still want to continue searching that night, but Peter only took Wendy's hand and resumed walking. They had almost reached the street where the Darling household was, when quite suddenly, Peter stopped in his tracks.

They were right in front of a two-storey house, and sure enough, there was their Tree in Never Land, only so much smaller and narrower.

"Why, this is where Aunt Millicent lives!" Wendy cried out in surprise.

"Who?" Peter asked without taking his eyes off the front of the house.

"Aunt Millicent! My aunt! She's adopted Slightly, you know."

"Mmmnnh," was Peter's only reply, obviously not having truly heard what Wendy said. He boldly strode forward and walked right up the front door, taking the knob in his hand and shaking it. "It's locked," he said unnecessarily.

"Of course it's locked. It's the middle of the night!" Wendy exclaimed in exasperation.

Before Wendy could stop Peter, he lifted the old brass knocker and slammed it smartly three times. The sound echoed loudly inside the sleeping house.

"Peter! You'll wake them all up!" Wendy said, grabbing Peter's arm rather uselessly. Peter just looked at her and grinned his infuriating grin.

There was a flurry of movement inside the house, and after a few moments Aunt Millicent herself came to the door in her robe, with a candle in her hand.

"Good gracious! Wendy Darling! What are you doing here? It's four o'clock in the morning!" The premature hour did nothing to dull the scandalized tone in the woman's voice.

"Good morning, Aunt," Wendy intoned formally and performed a small curtsy which looked perfectly ridiculous as she was barefoot and in her nighty.

"Are you my mother?" Peter cut in suddenly, and Aunt Millicent stared at him in surprise. There was the most earnest and hopeful look in Peter's face.

"Another one, Wendy?" Aunt Millicent asked.

Wendy nodded almost gravely. "This is Peter Pan, Aunt."

"Why, so he is! My son has told me all about you."

"Slightly," Wendy reminded Peter.

"But are you my mother?" Peter asked again fervently.

"I'm afraid not, child. I'm quite sure of it."

"But Aunt, this is the house where he used to live! That there is his tree!" Wendy cried.

"But I've only lived here for a few months, sweetheart," Aunt Millicent replied as she ushered them inside. "I heard an old bachelor used to live here."

"Why is your face green?" Only Peter would have dared to ask.

Aunt Millicent raised her hand up to her face in horror. She forgot entirely about the night cream that she had put on earlier. She had heard about it from her friend, but she would never admit to anyone about using it.

"Peter!" Wendy admonished in a whisper, "you shouldn't ask a lady about her toilette. It isn't polite."

They were walking through the main downstairs hallway, and Peter glanced up into the portraits hanging on the wall, and by the faint light of Aunt Millicent's candle he studied them with squinted eyes. "Look!" he cried. "That's me!"

The two looked, and indeed one portrait was that of two little boys. The younger of the two was looking rather sad and soulful in Wendy's opinion, but it was in the eyes of the older boy that she saw the familiar mischievous glint, even in the faded portrait.

"Peter, it is you! You were much cleaner then," Wendy observed.

"I believe the younger one is Mr. Martin Blackwood. Mrs. Paisley from next door says that his older brother ran away when they were little. They were Americans, you see, and they were here because of his father's business. They never found him." Aunt Millicent's thoughts were churning frantically inside her head. "Are you that little boy, Peter?" she asked in a very small voice.

Peter did not answer. "I remember now. Marty was my little brother. He was the apple of my parents' eyes, and I was the thorn in their sides. He used to follow me around all the time, and Mother would get angry, because I was always getting into the worst scrapes, and they didn't want their little darling imitating me." Peter's voice was sad with remembrance. "But I did love him. He was a good little boy, and one couldn't help but love him. I wonder where he is now?"

Aunt Millicent's voice cracked with heartache. "Peter... oh Peter, I'm very sorry... Mr. Blackwood was the old bachelor I was talking about earlier, and... he passed away last year..." She took hold of Peter's shoulder, but Peter rigidly shook her hand away.

"So my little brother did grow up... And my parents are probably gone now, too..."

The two ladies looked at each other, but had nothing to say.

"So I've got nobody now... not even a Mother to come home to..." The voice that came out was almost inaudible.

And there it was again, that fairy kiss on Aunt Millicent's cheek. Curiously enough, there was no fairy in the room, but the kiss was there nonetheless.

"Slightly needs a brother to play with. We can't always go to Wendy's house, you know," Aunt Millicent said softly, her words light but quite heavy in meaning, but Peter didn't want to hope too much. He stared at her as if not completely understanding, but it was clear in her eyes what she meant.

"Would you send me to school?" the boy asked.

"Yes."

"And then to an office?"

"Yes."

"Soon I would be a man?"

"Yes, darling, but you would be a boy for a very, very long time still. And I... will be your Mother."

"My very own Mother?"

"Yes."

"And you wouldn't bar the windows against me ?"

"You would have no need to leave."

Peter took his time in considering all of this, but of course, the answer was already written in his heart. Finally...

"Alright."

And in all of Aunt Millicent's dignified years as a grown-up, tonight was to be the second time that she would cry the most undignified whoop of pure merriment. The three of them ended up dancing around in glee and giving each other hugs of joy, with no thought of what the neighbors might think, until Slightly came down, roused from his sleep by the ruckus, and joined them in their celebration. Then the four of them went down to the kitchen, and Aunt Millicent gave them all glasses of warm milk and slices of a lemon cream pie which was reserved only for company, but did very well in assuaging the hunger of two little children who have been walking all night.

They talked and laughed until the sun was peeking over a pink horizon, and then Aunt Millicent bundled up the three children in Slightly's coats, and the four of them trudged over to the Darling's house at Number 14. It didn't matter that dawn had just come; it could never be too soon to break news of great import such as this. Of course, Aunt Millicent again forgot about the cream in her face, so when Nana caught sight of the lady with the green face and her charge Wendy with her hair in a dreadful tangle from all the flying and walking around, she barked grandly until Mr. and Mrs. Darling came rushing to the door.

And so the news was broken. It would be delightful to report that Mr. Darling was ecstatic about it, but of course he is Mr. Darling, and being Wendy's father he was at first rather shocked and quite befuddled about the whole matter. But what could he do in the face of all that rejoicing? Nothing, of course, but rejoice with them. Of course, the boys were happy about Peter staying. Nana was harder to convince, for she remembered that strange boy from that fateful night long ago, but in the end she grudgingly gave her bark of approval. And Peter himself found another hidden kiss when he met Mrs. Darling.

And I am happy to report that in the end, all endings are happy.

All children do grow up.


End file.
